


For Me?

by directionlessbuthappy



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ivar's Heathen Army, NSFW, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/directionlessbuthappy/pseuds/directionlessbuthappy
Summary: You were a shield-maiden, ever bloodthirsty and always ready for the fight. Eager to take revenge on the Saxons, your skills with an axe had caught the eye of the youngest of Ragnar’s sons, Ivar. He was persistent to become close with you, and you became something of a second to Ivar in his brothers’ warband while they sought revenge in England. With King Ecbert dead, the brothers’ avenging their father’s death had been exacted. But at the feast to celebrate in Wessex, tensions began to boil over between Ivar and his older brother Sigurd. Only it wasn’t Ivar who, in a moment of rage, drew the axe…Warnings: NSFW, smut, language, choking, depictions of violence and graphic content. 18+





	For Me?

Sigurd and Ivar were bickering again. This time though it was different; their was nothing holding them back now that Ragnar’s death was revenged. Bjorn began a speech to discuss their paths; he wished for most of the fleet to remain here and begin to farm to succeed in his father’s dream, while he would leave to raid more of the Mediterranean. Ivar,however, was not one to keep his opinion quiet. He wanted more war, more blood…the Saxons would never really leave your people alone here. You knew that, and you knew none of this fleet would just drop their axes and pick up a plow. To give up now and assume you were safe. This was foolish, although Bjorn’s idea was meaningful. Ubbe and Hvitserk elected to stay with the fleet and not go with Bjorn, but when Ivar brought up his idea to continue our conquest, none of the other brothers seemed to support him.

Ubbe was always the voice of reason when the two youngest brothers would fight, but this time, he sat back. Sigurd began the argument with his younger brother; Ivar had offered to lead the people into battle, but Sigurd resisted, saying it was best for the brothers to stick together. The pauses between what the brothers were deciding to say clawed at the back of your throat; your seat beside Ivar gave you the perfect view of the table and everyone’s nervous expressions. Ivar taunted his older brother for his weakness, and his desire to play music instead of fight.

Sigurd’s taunting of Ivar not being a real man, throwing his mother’s death into his brothers face…squawking about how Ivar was nothing but a crawling baby…you wondered if you were bleeding. Your view turned red and before you even knew you’d stood up and belted your arm back, you blinked.

Your axe was halfway between Sigurd’s ribs when you opened your eyes. You stepped back for a moment, partially in fear of yourself, fear of what you had done. Sigurd tried to walk forward, but collapsed in only a few steps. You raced over to him and pulled him into your lap. Blood began crawling, spreading into the fabric of his shirt with no where else to go.

“NO! No…Sigurd…” you screamed, angry tears welling up in your eyes. Why did he say those things? How could you have done such a thing? Your hands shook as you tried to get him to look at you, to see you. But it was too late, and he was gone from the world the moment you tried to hold him in your arms.  
Everything seemed silent after that. You kept crying, whimpering like a child until finally two men came and yanked you up by the backs of your elbows. You screamed and started kicking, being dragged away by them while you fought against their grip. You had just found a way to hook your nails into one of their sides when you looked behind your shoulder. All of them, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Bjorn, Ivar, were staring at you in horror. Seeing at what you’d done…oh look at what you’ve done…

…

You had curled your knees to your chest, being left in an empty tent while the sons of Ragnar decided what to do to you. You knew what they were going to do, but time seemed endless in here. No light, no nothing but dirt under your feet and fur standing tall in a circle around you. 

How were they going to kill you? Revenge is what brought them here to England…taking more revenge was their way. You remembered the night you and Ivar reveled in the sight of King Aelle being blood-eagled and strung up; he first kissed you that night. You were both sitting in camp. The moon was full and all was silent; Aelle’s site of execution was about a mile away, but for now you were all resting. Tomorrow was the day King Ecbert would die as well. He was sharpening his axe while everyone sat by their fires and talked of the tales of Ragnar. Ivar hadn’t even bothered to clean the gore off his face when he paused his sharpening stone and looked at you. You were re-braiding your hair, trying to dislodge briar thorns from your locks when he leaned over quickly and gave you a kiss. You were surprised, in a good way, and looked at him in partial bewilderment. He looked you up and down and leaned away, going back to sharpening. “Don’t tell anyone, shield-maiden,” he muttered.

“I won’t.”

It was so cold in this tent you could hardly even recall memories. Your shivering body was so tired. You wondered how far morning was when a slight shift sounded and wind rushed at you for the short time the tent’s drape was opened. You jolted and tucked your bare feet closer.

“Who-”

“Shh,” came his voice. You felt your cheeks burn as your heart pumped more and more blood into your head, arms and legs, readying you to run. You yelped when someone grabbed your ankle, and held your breath as you saw his lantern be set down. He looked down at you, even in his state. Crippled or not, Ivar always carried himself tall.

“Ivar,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

“My brothers were angering me with their talk. So I left, before…I did something stupid,” he replied. You slunk your shoulders. “You did something stupid today ah? Wouldn’t want to end up like you.”

You swallowed and looked at the ground again. Was he here to enact your punishment? Murdered in secret, with no honor or glory about it, with no way to defend yourself? 

“We all end up dead, Ivar. I am not afraid.”

He smiled at you knowingly; you were lying, he knew it, but something about the way you tried to remain uselessly strong made him amused. “I am sure you’re not afraid…despite that you killed my brother, and my other brothers are now planning and bickering with each other on what to do with you.”

“And you?” you muttered, guarded. He grinned and dragged himself over to you, pulling your ankle so you would fall flat. The wind was pulled out of your lungs, and the moment you tried to inhale it again he was pressing down on your chest with his own. 

“I came to say goodbye.” He pressed his lips to yours and you did not close your eyes. He was warm at least…you put a hand on his chest. 

“Ivar…you’re…if you’ve come to say goodbye, then say it and go. Do not give me such joy or such hope on the eve of my death. Its too cruel…even for you.”  
He chuckled at your words and reached up. You imagined he was going to grab your chin to kiss you, but instead, his hand snaked up your side and wrapped around your throat. He wasn’t pressing down; not yet.

“You killed Sigurd for me, didn’t you?”

You didn’t know what to say to that. His thumb and pointer fingers squeezed, constricting your blood flow for a moment. You could breathe; he wasn’t pressing down on your trachea. This action, this holding your life between his fingers…this wasn’t a threat. This was something else.

“I did,” you whimpered. “I didn’t…mean to kill him Ivar. I didn’t. I did not want him to die. I did not think…he made me so angry, the way he spoke to you…”  
Ivar grinned almost…proudly, at you. He leaned down and you turned your head, adamant that he should go and not give you a moment of happiness you did not deserve, but instead he grabbed your ear in his teeth. It made your jugular vein near that ear pulse.

“I would’ve done it myself had you not beaten me to it little doe,” he whispered. You swallowed; you felt like you were in danger with your hand in the wolf’s teeth. And yet you couldn’t pull away. “My brother was weak…he did not deserve to die, no. But you did what you felt you must. He was not strong enough to fight with us anyway…he would’ve gotten in the way.”

“You forgive me?”

He laid more of his weight on your chest and turned your head roughly, forcing you to face him. You’d never seen such a wide smile on his face before. It terrified and soaked you all at once.

“Of course I do, little shield-maiden." 

You were still frozen, unsure if he was lying. You knew Ivar kept a blade on him at all times, you knew he was the bloodiest of his brothers. Yet you believed him. He kissed your lips and lit a fire just underneath your ribcage.

"I’ll still let you beg my forgiveness, though,” he mumbled against your lips. You smiled, a quiet giggle of excitement slipping through your teeth. Ivar leaned back, his hand still on your neck, pulling you up with him. You fell onto your hands and watched him intently; you felt like the hunter for the moment. But Ivar was never the prey…

He quickly shoved you off of him, sitting up, he dragged himself back until he was finally resting his back against the wall of the tent. He shoved off his vest and shirt, throwing them out of his way with ease. You crawled to him carefully, copying his pace on your hands and knees. You made your way up his lap; he growled when your legs grazed his own, but he didn’t seem angry with you as you sat down comfortably just above his thighs. He pulled the backs of your knees so you were pinned against him chest to chest. Ivar ripped your leather corset and vest down the middle, the laces splintering apart as his teeth sunk into the flesh below your breast. You could feel his tongue lick over one rib, then another, before he scraped his teeth against your nipple and circled his tongue around it. You sighed, draping your arms over his shoulders as your cheeks and chest turned red.

“Sigurd was wrong to think you are not a real man…” you whispered. Ivar groaned against your skin, rattling your ribs with his deep voice, releasing your nipple before grabbing a fistful of the hair at the base of your neck. His other hand squeezed your other breast so hard you held your breath, hoping he wouldn’t pop your lung as his nails bit into your skin.

“How wrong of you, woman, to speak of the dead,” he said, starting to laugh like a drunken madman. How he found humor in your words, you had no idea, but his touches and his mouth had left your vision blurring. You wanted more.

“Ivar,” you whined. He tutted his lips and raked his nails down from your neck to your bellybutton. Finally he grabbed the hem of your leather pants and ripped them down the sides, causing them to fall apart from above the thigh. Your thighs were glistening in what little lamplight you two had; it made Ivar growl like a rabid wolf. You weren’t sweating yet, though, and sat against one of his legs while gently undoing his pants from under you. He watched you, tilting his head whenever you huffed another warm breath of air into the room. He could see your breath with how cold it was, but you weren’t shivering anymore.

You bit your lip. The handle of your axe just barely fit in your hand…Ivar was twice that size. This would hurt, but you ached for it, and if you were hurting now what was a little more? You finally elicited a moan from him, stroking him up and down just once, just to see what he’d do. His hand in your hair just slightly slacked, trembling, before tightening back up in a vice like a snake recoiling its grip on a mouse. Your eyes were far away, captured by the look of him. His hand went to your jawline and woke you up. Ivar grinned with a closed mouth, running his thumb along your bottom teeth, making you blush with how close he seemed to stare into you. He lifted you up with his thumb and other finger under your jaw in an L shape. You sat up willingly, holding into his shoulders tightly now instead of letting them rest.

“You are not afraid of me little shield-maiden?”

“No,” you shot back before even considering his words. He let his hand drop from your jaw and grabbed your thighs tightly, one of his hands moving to your lower back and pushing you down onto his cock without giving you time to breathe in. How many times had you had the wind knocked out of you before? How many times in a battle had you taken such a heavy blow with a shield, or gotten slammed by an elbow into your back? None of those times could compare. 

You screamed into Ivar’s neck, trembling at his actions while he kept his hands on your hips. One of his palms came up to brush against your back. It gave you goosebumps and the courage to look at him. His eyes seemed far away, lost in pleasure, and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed while his nostrils flared and he let out a hiss. Your tongue danced across his neck as you tried to focus. You worried you would scream again as you felt his hand guide you up, so instead of obeying him you moved forward, closer to him, then back again, feeling him even deeper inside you. Your mouth hung open; it was difficult to breathe. He kissed your jaw and your neck once you left those portions of yourself exposed. Rocking your hips, you began to let out whimpers and huffs of air until the aching stretch started to fade, and your noises turned to moaning and small cries. Ivar kept his hands on your lower back, making sure you didn’t retreat too far away. He wanted you to stay as close as you could, to be as deep inside you as he could get. If he hadn’t held on, you doubted you’d have any control at how fast your body wanted to ride him. He forced you to go slow, but as minutes ticked on your face was turning red and your slick was dripping down his cock. It felt like you were being denied. Being so close yet so far.

“Ivar…please,” your voice plead while your hands searched blindly for his hands. You grabbed his wrists, feeling his fingers lighten up on you. This made you whimper as you felt the blood rushing to bloom bruises into your hips. “Let me…”

“Beg me,” he demanded. “You were ready to beg me for your life not an hour ago. That makes this easy.” His raised eyebrow and satisfied grin seemed innocent, but soon his tongue flicked over his lips and you remembered who you were dealing with. You traced your trembling little hands down his chest.

“Ivar please…please let me-”

“Ah ah,” he corrected, his hands slipping from the small of your back to your hips to squeeze new bruises into your skin. You bit your lip to suppress your groan. “Let you?”

“Please fuck me, please,” you gasped. “Please…I need you…I want it…without it I cannot see Valhalla…”

He growled so loudly you thought he’d shout. Instead he invested that noise into his force as he thrusted up into you, grabbing your hips to sit you slightly upward so you both were touching collarbones. You had never dealt with such a violent man, but his speed and his power led your muscles to ripple. You cried out desperately, cumming and shaking over him just a few seconds before he slammed your hips down and let out a roar. You felt the space below your belly grow hot as he locked you around him. It was nearly uncomfortable, but it also felt like a balm for how hard he’d fucked you. You trembled and let out a few tears. Ivar looked at your face, blinking as he came down from his high and frowned.

“Why are you crying?” he asked gruffly with a dry voice. You whimpered and hid in his shoulder, your nose grazing his neck.

“So good…”

He gave a smug grin and even chuckled, albeit lightly since he did not have much air left after. He sat you upright, making you shiver. Giving you another kiss on your lips, he flicked his head up slightly. You crawled off of him, your body flinching in slight pain when you slid off his cock. Weakness was overcoming you. You noticed blue light shining between the cracks of the tent now; it must be early morning. No sleep for the wicked.

Ivar pulled himself together and sat across from you, a sweaty, messy thing who looked like she could hardly hold a sword. He looked pleased with the sight of you. You looked at him with fear again; he liked that.

“You’d better go before they see. A little thing like you won’t be easy to catch anyway…”

You stared at him with wide eyes. Adrenaline began pouring into your bloodstream. “Ivar, what do…”

“Leave. Go home, shield-maiden,” he said gruffly. “Among many of our boats Bjorn is taking to the Mediterranean, there is one bound for home. Some of King Harald’s men are taking it back to wherever he is from to return to their lives as fishermen, much like how Harald wants to remain here and farm.” He spit the words. “They are cowards…" 

You start looking from Ivar to the cracks in the tent. "You did not tell me this before…”

“They would expect you to leave in the dark. It is still dark enough,” he said with an intrigued eyebrow. “I did not like the idea of you dying. So, by my choice, you will not…at least not now. You may have killed Sigurd, but you are no coward.”

You gasp and gather yourself up, too much adrenaline pumping through you to re-string you vest. Slipping into the light of morning, you knew you had to work quickly. You stole a cloak off of a nearby chair; your “guards” were asleep. There seemed to be less of them now than earlier. Wonder why…

You stopped in front of the tent door, reaching out to the drape, but you paused. Instead you turned back, kneeling down to give Ivar a great, sloppy, hasty kiss. He did not seem surprised at all. You were blessed by the gods today, in more ways than one.

“I won’t forget this, Ivar the Boneless.”

“I would say so,” he said with a sly grin.


End file.
